


What Happens Next

by sapphose



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Inspired by Fanfiction, M/M, let Garak feel pretty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26259625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphose/pseuds/sapphose
Summary: After seeing Garak in lingerie, Julian has decided to move things back to his quarters and return the favor.A sequel to Xenobotanist's "The Teddy (Not Kukalaka)"
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 14
Kudos: 69
Collections: Lingerie: A Garashir Round-Robin





	What Happens Next

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Teddy (not Kukalaka)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26019388) by [Xenobotanist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenobotanist/pseuds/Xenobotanist). 



> Based on Xenobotanist's lovely "The Teddy (Not Kukalaka)", so read that first. They graciously opened up the idea to the rest of us, and I was charmed by the proposed second chapter in the author's note.

Garak had often accused Julian of not knowing how to dress out of uniform. Whether he actually believed this or simply wanted to start an argument, Julian wasn’t sure, but the point had to be conceded that choosing civilian clothes was not Julian’s strong suit.

This was the exception. After years of practice, Julian had a very good sense of how to put his long body to good use. Dressing for Garak required extra care, but he relished the challenge. A shirt with a deep v-neck, low enough to show off his collarbone, the closest thing he had to ridges. A pair of trousers that he thought did exceptionally flattering things to his rear end. And, tucked away as a surprise…

Well, dinner first. That _had_ been the invitation. (Although Julian hoped he had made clear that he intended to be dessert.)

The door chime rang at exactly 1900. Julian allowed himself a moment to picture opening the door to find Garak standing there already deliciously decked out in lingerie.

He wouldn’t be. There was no way Elim Garak was going to walk across the Promenade in garters and a teddy.

But oh, if he would…

At this rate, Julian was going to be hard as a rock before he even let Garak in. That wouldn’t do at all. No, control would be key as long as clothes were on.

Julian cleared his throat, rubbed his hands briskly together, pulled his shirt as low as it would go, and invited Garak to enter in the sexiest voice he could muster.

Garak was padded and shapeless once more, wrapped in layers of thick fabric in dark colors that held no hidden hues. But Julian could picture the firm, athletic form, scales that he would run his fingers over…

Focus.

“Good to see you, Garak.” He was already appallingly breathless, feeling giddy as a teenager on a first date. This wouldn’t do at all. “Did you bring the, um…”

He trailed off, realizing that Garak held nothing at all. Garak cocked his head to the side, but his expression did not change.

“Regrettably no, Doctor. I’m afraid I realized I had a few more alterations to make before it was ready to leave the shop, but I still intend to join you for dinner. I wouldn’t be so rude as to cancel on you.”

So Julian would have to act out that particular fantasy another time. Still, Garak was here, and even without lace he was still clever, quick, and sharp to a distracting degree.

(Julian had turned up the heat, in a nod to Cardassian sensibilities. It did no favors for his body, which was already feeling nearly feverish.)

“I did say you could call me Julian,” he reminded, thinking about that mouth forming his name (and a lot of other things that he could do with Garak’s mouth after dinner was done).

“You did,” Garak agreed. And said no more.

Interesting. Garak was not usually so stiff and taciturn. Maybe it was residual defensiveness, the provocative confidence he had shown at the end of their conversation transmuted into awkwardness now that they were in a new environment. Nothing insurmountable.

“Should we start with kanar?” Julian gestured to the dark bottle and glittering glasses on the table, next to a steaming bowl of veklava. For his first time with Garak, he had been determined to do things right, and that meant being as fancy with a replicator as he knew how.

“No thank you. Not on an empty stomach.” Garak patted the anatomy in question, and Julian watched his hand hungrily, imagining the tight abdomen and undulating ridges beneath.

Dinner. Think about dinner.

Garak said nothing while they seated themselves, and nothing while Julian ladled veklava onto his plate. Had Julian done something wrong? Was there some kind of intricate Cardassian courtship ritual he had skipped? _The Never-Ending Sacrifice_ may have been helpful for understanding the value of duty to the state, but it was a miserable guide to Cardassian seduction.

Garak definitely looked uncomfortable.

Maybe staring at Garak intently across the table wasn’t putting anyone at ease. Julian redirected his eyes to his meal and picked up his fork. Slow and steady, he instructed himself. There’s time.

“Preloc or Shoggoth?” Garak inquired, in the manner of a man getting down to business.

“Sorry?”

“For our conversation. I assumed that you invited me over for our usual discussion of literature.” This was punctuated by Garak’s typically unconvincing impersonation of an innocent look. “What else could you have in mind?”

“What else- Garak, I found you in your shop trying on lingerie, I called you exquisite and attractive, I invited you to dinner and asked you to _bring it along_ , and you ask me what I have in mind?” He sucked in his breath sharply in recognition. “You’re having me on.”

“You’ll have to excuse me, but I’m afraid I don’t know that expression.” There it was, the telltale gleam in Garak’s eyes.

“The hell you don’t. You’re just trying to get a rise out of me so I’ll admit something.”

“Admit what, Doctor?”

“Nothing, if that’s what you’re going to call me.” Julian attacked his veklava with renewed vigor. This was a familiar game between the two of them, and he didn’t have it in him to be truly annoyed. A Garak who didn’t rile him up would be no fun at all.

“Julian.” The sound of his name on Garak’s lips sent a shiver all the way down Julian’s spine. “How can you savor the flavor of your meal, if you insistent on eating so quickly?”

Julian gave his best cheeky grin.

“I’m trying to leave time to savor something else.”

This earned him a snort, but Garak was relaxing (at least, to the extent that the spy ever did).

“If I’m not mistaken, you were going to admit something…?”

“Was I?” Julian made a show of tapping his finger on his chin, faux-forgetful. “It could have been that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. Or that I want to know what your scales taste like.”

The blue tinge in Garak’s cheeks drove Julian wild, and he promptly dosed himself with a gulp of kanar. (Not a beverage made for gulping, but it kept him from getting too excited too soon.)

“That’s quite the confession.”

Julian noticed that Garak’s eyes, rather than looking at his face or the food, had settled on Julian’s chest. Success.

“Is there anything you want to admit to me?”

Garak’s gaze made its way up, and Julian felt an electric surge when those blue eyes met his.

“Nothing that I can recall, _Julian_.”

He drew out the name with deliberate slowness, tasting each sound. (Would he kiss like that, all intention and refinement? Or would he lose control?)

“That’s too bad.” Julian laid his fork down with a satisfied smirk. “If we have different intentions for the evening, it would rather spoil the surprise I’ve planned.”

Garak raised his eye ridges.

“What surprise?”

“That would be telling, my dear Garak.”

The term of endearment had its desired effect. Garak’s pupils were dilated. Only slightly, only to the degree that a genetically enhanced doctor would notice, but this genetically enhanced doctor was feeling particularly pleased with himself.

Wordlessly, Garak pushed back his chair and stood. In one swift motion, he divested himself of his tunic, revealing the smooth black fabric with a shimmer of purple beneath.

Julian’s breath caught in his throat. The idea that Garak was wearing this under his regular clothes- that he had been all along, had walked over from his shop with the kiss of satin against his skin and the press of stockings in his legs- had Julian nearly unraveled.

“That’s quite a confession,” he mimicked, and the breathlessness was back in full force. So, too, was Garak’s cool and cocky expression, the cat that cornered the canary and was planning to play with his meal.

That meant it was time for Julian to sing. He excused himself with haste and all but dashed to the bathroom.

The robe was long and silky smooth, a flowing crimson fabric that Julian thought complemented his skin. Garak was an unparalleled tailor.

It looked best, Julian had decided, with nothing else underneath. He took a moment in the mirror to assess his reflection, making sure that his hair was in roguish disarray, that the sash was knotted just so.

Perfect.

When he returned to the main room, he saw that Garak was similarly divested of pedestrian clothing. The transparent black fabric of the teddy just skimmed his hips, revealing the lacy garters and a mesmerizing network of miniature scales.

“You knew?” Garak said, with an unexpected flash of… dismay?

That wasn’t at all the reaction Julian was going for.

“Knew what?”

“The robe.” Garak indicated Julian’s garment with a flick of his wrist.

Julian, not one to miss an opportunity, tilted his hips forward and struck a pose.

“I think it looks rather good on me, don’t you?”

“You aren’t angry?”

Julian was definitely missing something.

“Why would I be angry?” he asked cautiously. This was odd, even for Garak.

“That I made you [bed clothes].” The translator beeped on the last phrase; it was the low-confidence warning, a literal translation of an idiomatic phrase.

Well, bedclothes in this case certainly did not mean sheets and blankets. Julian cast a dubious look down at his apparel.

“Bed clothes…” It sunk in. “Garak, is this what Cardassians wear when they’re going to have sex with someone? Did you give me lingerie without telling me?”

Garak at least had the decency to look chastened.

“In my defense, I didn’t think you would realize.”

Which was, quite frankly, a bullshit defense.

“What if I had worn it out on the station? What if- I don’t know- what if _Dukat_ had seen me?”

They both winced at that. Garak recovered first.

“Are you in the habit of wearing clothing like this around Dukat?”

“No, but…” Julian frowned. He was not the one who should be defending himself here. “You should have told me.”

“That I fantasized about dressing you in silk and then ripping it off? That I felt ravenous when I looked at you?” Garak’s tone was bitter. “Tell me, Julian, how would you have responded?”

Julian plucked at his robe in disbelief.

“Look at me, Garak. I’m nearly naked in front of you. How do you _think_ I would have responded?”

Garak gave him a withering look.

“We wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t seen me in my shop. Your interest is… capricious, at best.”

“Now, hang on a moment. You don’t get to insult me just because you were too cowardly to make a real move.”

“If you were Cardassian-”

“If I were Cardassian, you would have said something before you started making me ‘fuck me’ clothes! I deserve to have an informed say in what I wear and what we do.”

For one tense moment, Julian thought Garak would turn around and leave, indecent dress be damned.

Instead, he straightened his posture and bowed his head formally.

“I apologize.”

Julian released a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. It was an awkward feeling, being full of righteous indignation and ready for a fight, only to have the other person concede.

Particularly when arguing with Garak already had the tendency to turn Julian on, even without the lingerie.

“Thank you,” he responded, with equal solemnity. (That both of them were bearing such stately wounded dignity while in salacious undergarments was neither here nor there.)

Garak retrieved his tunic from where it sat on his chair, folded neatly in a perfect square.

“Forgive the intrusion,” he said, and began to shake out the shirt.

Julian blinked owlishly.

“You’re- you’re leaving?”

“I believe that would be the best course of action, yes.”

“Don’t I get to express my opinion about that?”

Garak stiffened, as if he feared what that opinion might be.

“Of course.”

“Good.” Detour be damned, Julian was going to get what he planned for out of this evening. “In that case, my opinion is that you should put that down and kiss me.”

Now it was Garak’s turn to show surprise.

“You haven’t changed your mind?”

Julian rolled his eyes, but stepped forward all the same.

“If we’re going to get anywhere this evening, you’ve got to get it through your head that I am not as fickle as you think.” Julian reached to his waist and untied the sash, allowing the robe to part and reveal the bare flesh beneath. “I invited you over because I want this.”

Garak gaped. Julian took that as a welcome compliment.

“Julian…” Garak’s tone was nearly reverent. His hand grasped at his own clothing, as if to follow Julian’s example. Julian stopped him with a caress.

“If you don’t mind-” this in Julian’s low, most seductive tone- “I’d like a chance at it first.”

He trailed his hand along the lacy sleeve and broad scutes, and when he leaned his head in, he allowed his warm breath to ghost for a moment across the shoulder ridges before letting his lips make contact.

Garak’s stuttered inhale told him what he needed to know.

“Is there anything else in my wardrobe I should be concerned about?” Julian murmured, working his way up to Garak’s aural ridge.

“Yes,” Garak gasped. “But not from me.”

Whether that was a dig at Julian’s general fashion sense, or a warning that his general choice in clothes was more provocative to a Cardassian than he realized, Julian didn’t particularly care.

“You look beautiful,” Julian hummed, admiring silver galaxies of scales, and was rewarded with a smile that even looked sincere.

Julian wondered when someone had last told Garak that. He resolved to make up for lost time, and tell Garak he was beautiful one hundred times more before the night was through.

**Author's Note:**

> If I could write more, I would. But once we move beyond kissing, we move out of Sapphose's purview. I invite anyone else to jump on the train with chapter 3 though!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Short Skirt and a Long...Jacket](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26284915) by [BlessedAreTheFandoms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlessedAreTheFandoms/pseuds/BlessedAreTheFandoms)




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